


selenography

by sheisawhirlwind



Series: moonlight soft & sunshine sweet [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Sweet, harry and Ron only show up in the first paragraph so..., kinda inspired by a tumblr poem, kinda poetic, ok really inspired, sorry fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheisawhirlwind/pseuds/sheisawhirlwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's like, even though when she sees him, she thinks, "mine," she also can't help but think, "oh god, it's him it's him it's him - "</p>
            </blockquote>





	selenography

When Hermione starts sleeping with Draco Malfoy, she doesn't need an immediate stay at the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s like Ron and Harry tell her she does. (“...right, don't get huffy, we were just joking, ‘Mione, but blimey, _Malfoy_?”)

Nor does Hermione grow two more heads, even though when she tells Ginny over brunch, that's exactly how Ginny looks at her for a solid minute before she spits out her tea. (“I'm sorry, I just….since when was _this_ a part of reality?”)

Hermione does, in fact, make a small, wry grin into her own mug of tea. “We've been sleeping together for about a week, I _guess_ , but we've been a thing for about half a year, I suppose?”

If Ginny's brown eyes looked like saucers when Hermione first mentions Draco, they look like dinner plates now. “You're telling me _everything_ , ‘Mione.”

\-----

Hermione supposed everyone had secret little traditions that weren't guilty or bizarre, per say, but just secret because you didn't have any reason to tell anyone else. Like how she always gave a box of pasta a good shake before opening it, or how, if she was making the final stretch of a walk to her flat at night, she always pressed her thumb against the wooden base of her wand, just inside her jacket.

Hermione supposed, though, that her most secret - but mundane and innocent, she _swore_ \- little tradition was how she loved to watch Draco Malfoy.

It was innocent, of course. Hermione just really appreciated the way he fit into his surroundings. They were both Ministry employees in the Department for the Regulation of Magical Law, so whenever Hermione took a break from poring over her desk and all the paperwork, she could take a peek to Draco Malfoy’s desk across the way.

She just liked looking. Innocent looking. Looking at the way he always sat with perfect posture but also a languidness to the way he went through his drawers or the way he wrote a memo with neat but elegantly swooping letters. Or looking at the slope of his pointy nose, his blonde eyelashes downturned as he studied another report about regulations and rules, his elegant hands drumming his desk, or the smooth paleness of his skin, skin that Hermione could only see on his hands, face and neck, but she imagined _slipping off his blazer or past his collar to find more of it_ -

Right. So maybe it was a little less than innocent. Maybe it was a little guilty (pleasure).

But it wasn't certainly that bizarre. At least not outlandishly bizarre -

\-----

Ginny snorts loudly. “I suppose everyone has their own opinion,” she remarks pointedly, arching her brow as she sips more tea.

\-----

The point is, Hermione entertaining herself with looking at Draco Malfoy was just a harmless little secret tradition Hermione had. It wasn't like when she watched him smile to himself when one of his proposals was successful, she felt herself warm slightly. It wasn't like after giving him a little peek she felt more ready to tackle all the paperwork on her desk. Not at all.

It was more like, about a half a year ago, she couldn't quite seem to pull her gaze from him even though she could see, through his body language, that he was about to turn and see her looking at him for apparent no reason.

She just couldn't help herself. The wispy blonde hairs at the nape of his neck looked so soft, and the skin right behind his ear looked so _kissable_. For Draco’s significant other, of course. Not for Hermione. Of course not. It wasn't like she had lingering daydreams about _him and his hands touching every inch of_ -

Then, Draco turned to face her, gray gaze meeting hers.

No one looked away.

\-----

Hermione's friends might still grumble and mumble slightly rude things under their breath about her beloved Ferret, but they never forget that Hermione Jean Granger of the Golden Trio, brightest witch of her age, et cetera, et cetera, is still their Hermione. No _if’_ s, or _but’_ s about it. Their Hermione is still an avid learner. It just so happens that her favorite new subject is Draco Malfoy.

\-----

She learns that Draco takes three sugars with his tea (“Mother never successfully tamed my sweet tooth, really,”) and that he takes great pride in his clean, well-manicured nails (“I have a system, Hermione,”).

She learns that he hates ratty old clothes but has a rather worn, plain blanket that he always insists on using when they snuggle on his couch in front of the fire (“It’s just...well-loved.”).

So maybe Hermione isn't just sleeping with Draco as much as, well, she's _learning_ to love him -

She catalogues all his ticklish spots (just under his ribs, the small of his back and the bottoms of his feet), takes note of how quickly and harshly his skin can be sunburnt (long story short: “Guadalupe would be a nice escape for the summer hols, wouldn't it?”).

Hermione memorizes the way he clenches his jaw when he wakes up from a nightmare, but also the tiny lisp that comes out when he speaks French too fast, and the soft, raspy voice he uses when he first wakes up in the morning.

Swot jokes aside, if Draco Malfoy were a Ministry-approved Hogwarts elective, Hermione would pass the fin exam with full N.E.W.T's. 

 

\-----

Hermione’s known for years how pale Draco is. But it’s when she studies his profile while she lies tucked under his arm, in his - their - bed, washed in starlight, that she learns how Draco can look silver and breathtaking like moonlight descended just to nestle with her, just to nuzzle his pointy nose into her hair.

Hermione learns about that little crescent-shaped scar on the corner of Draco’s mouth, how he got it during the Final Battle at Hogwarts, trying to protect the younger, more reckless students from Death Eaters and anyone else he could manage. She learns to just brush the little crescent with her thumb, learns how it feels compared to the satin of his lips. She learns to kiss it with fragile reverence, and when he asks her why she seems so fascinated by the little silver nick in his skin, she just says, without thinking, “I love you, that's all.”

And that's all it is, really. The best part is hearing him whisper it back in the hushed nighttime, wrapped up in their soft blankets, and seeing his little crescent-shaped scar reflect the starlight.

Hermione thinks that if love is anything tangible, it's _his mouth_ -

it's like, even though when she sees him, she thinks _mine_ , she also can't help but think o _h god, it's him it's him it's him_ -

so, when he echoes her, _I love you_ , Hermione learns how it feels when someone is your moon and sky and they say your name.

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever dramione fic, which I suddenly got the inspiration for during college essay season. which is kind of "the room is on fire and I didn't call 911 yet, sorry" levels of terrifying. just kind of. 
> 
> ib: Caitlyn Siehl, "Tasting the Moon". Read and review and kudos you guys!!!


End file.
